


Hope is the Thing with Feathers (That Perches in the Soul)

by LetTheWookieWin



Series: Settling [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials, Daemons, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetTheWookieWin/pseuds/LetTheWookieWin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her mother’s daemon had settled on the form of an adder.  Her father’s a hound. Daemons on the Ark tended to be small, manageable.  And those that weren't didn't tend to stay on the Ark for very long.  She expected Ari to be the same.  They had discussed it.  A bird perhaps?  Ari loved the thought of flight and Clarke would be the first to admit the sky was where she belonged.</p><p>But then they fell from the sky.  And the ground was different.  The ground changed them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope is the Thing with Feathers (That Perches in the Soul)

**Author's Note:**

> I am a massive fan of daemon AUs and this hasn't left my mind for days. Which is super unfortunate because I have a dissertation due in 9 days! Anyway, feel free to come chat to me on tumblr at [bobzthegreatandpowerful](http://bobzthegreatandpowerful.tumblr.com/). I have headcanons and pics!

Her mother’s daemon had settled on the form of an adder. Her father’s a hound. Daemons on the Ark tended to be small, manageable. And those that weren’t didn’t tend to stay on the Ark for very long. She expected Ari to be the same. They had discussed it. A bird perhaps? Ari loved the thought of flight and Clarke would be the first to admit the sky was where she belonged.

But then they fell from the sky. And the ground was different. The ground changed them. It was harsh and dangerous and beautiful and it made Clarke want to scream and cry and laugh all at the same time. The first few days after their descent was filled with the settling of daemons, almost as if there was a sudden widespread realisation among the 100 that they could be who they wanted to be without the fear of being floated. Wells’s daemon, Sophia, was one of the first. She chose the form of a spaniel, her coat gold and her eyes the deepest brown. Ari had laughed in delight, taken the form of a terrier, and pounced on Sophia, playfully wrestling with her in the dirt. Wells had beamed at a grinning Clarke, the pair sharing a moment of pure euphoria and glee.

He died soon after.

There were many daemons who did not settle, however, Ari among them. It drove home the point that, although they were fighting for their survival, the 100 were still just children. Octavia Blake, the girl from under the floor, had taken offence at this particular injustice. Her daemon, Gael, used to taking the form of a mouse in order to stay hidden, had developed the hobby of changing into the most ridiculously large animals the pair could think of. It was only after Bellamy had almost shot Gael when he had pounced on the boy in the form of a huge grizzly bear that Clarke put her foot down.

‘We’re just having some fun,’ said Octavia, rolling her eyes at Clarke’s frustration.

Ari, a sparrow today, snorted and perched on Clarke’s shoulder, his presence calming the girl’s frayed nerves instantly.

‘Bellamy almost shot Gael,’ said Clarke slowly, hoping that if she kept repeating herself, the message would eventually penetrate Octavia’s thick, thick skull, ‘if he dies, you die. Do you think Bell really wants that on his conscience? And, Jesus, O, we’ve got enough things trying to kill us without us accidentally killing _each other_.’

Octavia grumbled but glanced at Gael guiltily.

‘Seriously O,’ sighed Clarke, ‘go talk to your brother. And try not to terrify anyone else.’

‘Fine,’ huffed Octavia and she stomped off, Gael trailing behind her, offering quiet words of counsel.

‘You dealt with that well,’ observed Ari, ‘I thought she would shout more. She really doesn’t like authority.’

‘I’m not authority,’ argued Clarke, throwing Ari a look of confusion.

‘Aren’t you?’

Clarke fell silent. She didn’t want to be. She didn’t mean to be.

But in the days that followed, she was.

* * *

 

Ari did not settle on a form until Finn Collins was strung up, bleeding and broken, for the slaughter of a Grounder village.  Clarke had stepped forward, knife concealed, heart twisting in all the worst ways, and killed him.  His daemon screamed in a mixture anguish and betrayal before disintegrating into dust before their eyes.

There was a brief moment of silence before a rumble of outrage began to spread through the crowd of gathered Grounders.  They seemed to swell forwards, intent on grabbing Clarke and stringing her up next to Finn’s lifeless form.  She did not care. 

Ari, however, did.  

In one fluid movement he lept from Clarke’s side, transforming from a small house cat to something much, much larger.  His tense muscles bulged and rippled as they grew, his fangs elongating into sharp, savage points.  Ari snarled at the approaching warriors, spraying them with spittle.  The Grounders froze.  A murmur went through the crowd but, unlike before, this was not one of anger.  It was of awe.  

Clarke glanced up at Ari and blinked away her tears.  A lion, taller than any man, his coat golden and his body tense, standing between her and a Grounder army.  She would have laughed if she had not been kneeling next to the mutilated body of her friend, her hands covered in his blood.  At that moment, she certainly did not feel very lion hearted.  

She looked up at the Grounder commander, hoping her disgust at their proximity was not visible.  The woman’s face was blank but there was something new in her eyes as she watched Ari pace in front of her warriors.  Something that could have been respect.

‘Why a lion?’ croaked Clarke later that night as she curled into Ari’s side, Finn’s blood successfully scrubbed from her skin.  She could still  _ feel  _ it on her hands though and she briefly wondered if the sensation would ever fade.

Ari huffed and shrugged as much as a lion could.

‘I think I’m supposed to ask you that,’ he murmured, ‘you do understand how this thing works, right?’

‘Don’t make fun of me.  I’ve had a hard day.  But seriously, I thought we decided on a kind of bird?’

‘Wow, yeah, you really don’t understand how this works.’

‘Ari.’

‘Clarke.’

The girl sighed and gripped Ari’s fur tightly.  

‘Please,’ she whispered.

‘What you did was brave, Clarke,’ said Ari, curling up around the exhausted girl, nudging her gently with his enormous muzzle, ‘I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it was.’

‘I murdered Finn.’

‘You  _ saved  _ Finn.’

‘Fuck off.  What part of stabbing someone to death seems like saving them to you?’

‘Clarke, Finn would have died anyway.  You saved him from  _ hours,  _ possibly  _ days _ , of agonising pain.’

‘He didn’t deserve to die like that,’ she muttered.

‘Didn’t he?’

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

Ari looked at her sadly.

‘He wasn’t innocent when they strapped him to that post,’ he reminded her carefully, ‘and I think we both know that.  There’s only one person to blame for his death and it’s certainly not you.’

‘Fuck you.’

Ari sighed and nuzzled into her gently.  Clarke tightened her grip on his fur and concentrated of the steady beat of his heart.

‘Earth sucks,’ she muttered.

‘You should sleep,’ said Ari, ‘we have to meet with the Commander tomorrow.’

Clarke swallowed and nodded slowly.

‘Stay with me?’

‘Always.’

* * *

 

There was something decidedly odd about the Commander’s daemon, Clarke concluded. 

Clarke had never seen the creature.  If she had not had heard the Commander talking to the beast through the thin cloth walls of the war tent, she would have been inclined to believe that the Grounder did not even have one, as impossible as that was.  But whenever Clarke would burst into the tent, hoping to catch a glimpse of the illusive daemon, Lexa would be alone, the daemon nowhere in sight, hidden away in the shadows.

‘Who were you talking to?’ asked Clarke, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Lexa, very aware of Ari’s disapproving presence behind her.

‘My daemon, Clarke,’ responded the Commander, ‘I wished to hear her thoughts on the points raised in the meeting.’

‘Where is she?’

Lexa turned from the map spread on the war table and eyed Clarke carefully.

‘You seem awfully concerned about Eirene, Clarke.’

‘Eirene?  Is that her name?’

‘Yes,’ Lexa folded her hands behind her back and straightened up, ‘and she is around.  She does not like to be seen by…’

‘By what, Lexa?’

‘Other people.’

‘So she’s shy?’ scoffed Clarke, ‘seriously?’

Lexa looked mildly offended and Ari rolled his eyes in despair.

‘Clarke,’ he hissed, headbutting her in a not so gentle fashion, ‘shut up.’

Lexa stepped away from the table and walked towards Clarke.  She stopped in front of her and examined Clarke’s face carefully.  Clarke stiffened.  Lexa was so close.  She could smell the earthy scent of pine and grass, mixed in with a slight hint of smoke.

‘A daemon is a physical representation of our very soul,’ said Lexa quietly, apparently oblivious to the effect she was having on Clarke, ‘to expose that would be to expose-’

‘Let me guess, weakness?’

Lexa tilted her head in confirmation.  Clarke frowned and folded her arms.

‘So instead you just  _ hide _ ?  Conceal everything you  _ are _ as a person?  That’s no way to live, Lexa.’

‘Eirene is a representation of Lexa.  Not Heda.  And my people do not need  _ Lexa _ .’

‘I think your people need Lexa more than you realise.’

The corners of Lexa’s mouth twitched slightly and she took a step backwards.

‘I fear we may have to disagree, Klark kom Skaikru,’ she said, ‘now, it is late and I have much to discuss with Eirene. You should retire.’

‘Fine,’ nodded Clarke, ‘but you should think about what I said.’

‘I will think upon it, Clarke.  Reshop.’

‘Goodnight Commander.’

That night, when she was safely tucked into Ari’s side, she wondered what form the stoic woman’s soul would take.  Probably something lithe and powerful like the woman.  A panther?  A wolf?  Ari, however, was not invested in her theories.  

‘That was rude, Clarke,’ huffed Ari, ‘she was right, a daemon is a private thing and you shouldn’t have pressured her.  Now she thinks we have no manners.’

Clarke eyed Ari as if he was crazy.

‘When we first met her, she accused me of burning three hundred of her warriors to death and I’m pretty sure she was thinking about stabbing me with her knife,’ she pointed out incredulously, ‘Lexa is in no position to judge  _ our _ manners.’

Ari snorted.

‘Can you imagine living the way she does though?’ continued Clarke, ‘imagine having to constantly hide who you are.  Imagine never being able to bare yourself to the people around you.’

‘And I thank my glorious mane every day that we will never have that problem,’ responded Ari.

‘That’s because you’re too big to hide, you giant furry idiot,’ said Clarke fondly, ‘but seriously, what form do you think her daemon has taken?  How about an osprey?  Fitting, right?’

‘Clarke.’

‘Maybe a horse?  A bet she likes horses.’

‘Clarke.’

‘No, wait.  It’s definitely a predator of some kind.  I mean, have you seen those muscles?’

‘Clarke, I am trying to sleep.’

‘What about a-’

Clarke was suddenly interrupted by a heavy paw to the side of her head.

‘Ow!’

‘I am trying to sleep,’ repeated Ari, pinning Clarke down with the aforementioned giant paw and curling up around her, ‘and besides, with that war paint, Eirene is definitely a raccoon.’

Clarke let out an unexpected laugh and Ari chuckled, pleased to have prompted the gleeful response.  It had been a long time since he had heard Clarke laugh.

‘You’re probably right,’ admitted Clarke, ‘definitely a raccoon.’

But he was not right.

When Lexa kissed her in the tent, there was the sound of the rapid flutter of wings.

When Lexa sounded the retreat at the foot of Mount Weather, her people safe but Clarke’s very much not, there was a flash of white in the trees.

When Clarke emerged from the mountain, broken and shattered, a single white feather lay where the Grounder army had stood.

But it was not until Lexa knelt before her and swore fealty, her face so open and hopeful and honest, that Clarke saw the daemon of the woman who had betrayed her in the name of peace. 

A dove, white and pure and graceful.  

‘Clarke,’ whispered Lexa, ‘this is Eirene.’

And she was beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come chat to me on tumblr at [bobzthegreatandpowerful](http://bobzthegreatandpowerful.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
